


Noiruto

by ghostbutt



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, im not sure what other characters i will feature but they will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbutt/pseuds/ghostbutt
Summary: What it says on the tin. A noir-style detective novel, except it's Naruto.The blinds were closed and they had been for a while, the sunlight that filtered through them illuminated nothing but the dust in the air and a lonely desk of old, worn ebony. Behind it sat a man, tall and slender, with grey hair and dark, tired eyes. Half his face was covered by a mask of smooth, dark fabric. No one knew why he wore it, at this point it was hard for him to remember himself. He’d let go of too many memories to stop himself from forgetting.





	Noiruto

The blinds were closed and they had been for a while, the sunlight that filtered through them illuminated nothing but the dust in the air and a lonely desk of old, worn ebony. Behind it sat a man, tall and slender, with grey hair and dark, tired eyes. Half his face was covered by a mask of smooth, dark fabric. No one knew why he wore it, at this point it was hard for him to remember himself. He’d let go of too many memories to stop himself from forgetting. 

The man looked young, too young to be this spent but too young to have this office, this job. It wasn’t meant for the likes of his, but someone had to do it. That’s what he always said when someone asked him why he’d become a private investigator. He never mentioned that he used to have a different job. But then, he rarely had a chance to talk about it at all, except on those long, drawn out nights that he found himself in a bar with a beautiful stranger, whose name would be forgotten in the morning. He wondered how many of these people had been like him, straying from person to person without ever finding a connection. He wondered whether he might find this connection if he stopped to look for it. 

He felt older than he was. Another person might have called it tired, weary, maybe even used up, but he was no other person. He was Hatake Kakashi, private investigator extraordinaire. 

-

Someone knocked at his door. With a smooth gesture, Kakashi pushed back his hair, then called his visitor to enter. 

It was a woman with smooth black hair, which she had pushed up into a high, messy ponytail. She wore a trench coat over a dark, almost sheer dress that showed off her curves and long legs. The woman had the countenance of a fighter, she was beautiful in a raw, untamed way. 

“My name is Mitarashi Anko. I was told you might help me find my sister.” 

“You have come to the right address.” From the first word she spoke Kakashi could tell there was something off about this woman. She had a secret and he didn’t know what to make of it. Then again, he didn’t find it in him to care as long as he got paid. 

“Your sister, I’ll need her name, age and last known address. Any habits she has. Anything you can tell me.” He took out his notepad. The woman began to dictate. 

“Her name is Akuri. She is… about your age and she was last seen by our neighbor at Ichiraku’s. The japanese restaurant on Sixth, do you know it? She eats there a lot.” 

“So Mitarashi Akuri, my age range...” She hadn’t told him the concrete age of her own sister. Odd. “...frequents Ichiraku’s on Sixth. Anything else?”

“She’s very sweet and proper, so it’s unlike her to run away. I suspect… something has happened to her. Please, will you find her?” She pleaded. 

Kakashi nodded slowly. “I’ve had cases like this before. Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll find her.” 

-

Konoha was a cesspool of humans, all entering the city from places Kakashi didn’t care to ask about, all dreaming of things Kakashi knew the city couldn’t give them. But in her dark and twisted alleyways, shrouded in mist, dirt and secrecy, there was a person that knew every single cog of its monotonous machinery by name. On a day long passed it used to be Kakashi. He wondered who had taken up his place. 

He knew Ichiraku’s, the owner was a diligent and upstanding citizen and his daughter was a kind and honest woman. That was why he knew he wouldn’t find Akuri there. Instead, he looked in another place. 

Miss Mitarashi had mentioned her sister was sweet and proper, yet she hadn’t gone to the police. She had come to him. Maybe because there were no leads, maybe she trusted his reputation. Maybe she knew the police wouldn’t be able to help. Anyhow, the task fell to him to find this woman’s sister. 

He pulled up the phone book of Konoha. Odd. No Akuri Mitarashi was listed. He made a note of it but eventually put it down to bureaucratic idiocy. The woman had left him their address after he’d requested it, but he sensed there was no point in going there, either. 

Kakashi took his coat off the hanger and locked the door behind him. He needed to ask Miss Mitarashi some more questions, tough he had the strange notion that he wouldn’t be getting any answers.

-

He arrived at her house after a brief drive. It was a tall, bleak apartment building of the sort that sprout and decay like withered teeth practically overnight with a yellowed “rooms to rent” sign posted in a window of the bottom floor, framed by tattered, lacy curtains. The stairs leading up to the front door were cracked concrete and only three of the doorbells had names written besides them. When he rung the doorbell labelled “Mitarashi”, he got no reply. Odd. He knocked at the door. 

An old woman opened. She had gray hair and her face was marked by age. 

“How may I help you, sir?”

“I’d like to leave a message for Anko Mitarashi, please.”

“Miss Mitarashi moved out years ago. I don’t have her current address. Would that be it?”

“Yes, thank you.”

And with that the door was slammed shut. Odd. Kakashi cast a glance at his watch. It was well past noon and he hadn’t had lunch yet. Maybe he was going to pay the restaurant a visit. 

-

Ichiraku’s was something of an oddity in a neighborhood like this. It was the smallest building on the entire street, the facade was clean and white and softly lit by warm-white neon lamps. There wasn’t much room inside, but somehow there was always room for one more guest. It was charming. Kakashi didn’t go there often.

When he entered the restaurant he noticed he was not the only one. 

Of course. Akuri? What sort of name would that have been. He should have noticed. His skills were really getting rusty. 

“Hello Kakashi. I thought I was going to have to wait forever.”

“Hello Iruka. I thought I wasn’t going to see you again, but here we are.”


End file.
